The Æneid of Virgil Translated Into Scottish Verse. Gawin Douglas
knawist eik the reuelationys
Of god Apollois diuinationys,
Vndir hys trestis and burdis at Delphois schene,
And into Claryus vndir the lawrer grene
That vnderstandis the cowrs of euery star
And chyrm of euery byrdis voce on far,
And euery fowle on weyng fleyng in the sky,
Quhat thai betakyn, and quhat thai signyfy;
Say me, I pray the, quhat dangeris principaly
In to my cowrs and vayage eschew sall I,
Or how I may, or be quhat meyn, eschaip
Sa gret aduersiteis quhilkis beyn to me schaip.
For as to me al devote godly wightis
Schew we suld haue a prospir rays at rychtis,
And euery oracle of goddis admonyst eik
That we the realm of Italy suld seik,
Ensew tha landis quhilkis war for ws provyde
Alanerly newlyngis on that other syde;
Schame for to say, the Harpye Celeno
Spays onto ws a feirful takyn of wo;
A vengeans from the goddis pronuncis sche,
With schameful hungir sal happyn our menȝe.
Helenus than, eftir the rytis and gyis,
The ȝong bestis slew in sacryfys,
Purchesyng favour of goddis to stanch thar fed,
And lowsit the garlandis of his haly hed:
Syne me, Phebus, he ledis by the hand
Onto thi tempil, on seyr materis musand;
Quhar this gret preist gan spekyn and declar
To me thir wordis of the goddis answar:
Son of the goddes, sen traist is manifest
That throu deip seys thi wayage is addrest,
And eik, of forton by the boundis hie,
The purviance dyvyne wil so it be;
The kyng of goddis so distributis the fatis,
Rollyng the chancis, and turnyng thame thusgatis;
Of mony wordis, schortly, a quhoyn sall I
Declare, at thou mayr sovirly tharby
May seik out throu the strange stremys onkend.
And at a port of Itale arryve at end:
The remanent heirof, quhat evyr be it,
The werd Systeris defendis that suld be wyt,
And eik the douchtir of auld Saturn, Juno,
Forbyddis Helenus to speik it, and cryis, ho!
First say I the, that twichand Italy,
Quhilk thou trastis be at hand and fast by,
And the addressis ignorantly, but weyr,
To entyr sone in the port, as it war neir,
Lang wylsum ways, and far landis alswa
A ful gret space dissyveris ȝou tharfra.
Ȝour aris fyrst into the Sycil see
Bedyit weill and bendit oft mon be;
And of Ausonya the salt stremys eik
Rownd about with ȝour schippis mon ȝe seik,
And Avernus, clepit the layk of hell,
And Aheie, the ile quhar Circes dwell,
Or euer thou may sovirly vpbeild
Thi cite in land of Italy or feild.
I sall the schaw takynnys tharof ful meit,
Quhilkis thou sal hald within thi mynd secreit.
Quhen thine alane musyng as thou sal ga,
By aventur, endlang a watir bra
And vndir ane aik, fyndis, in to that steid,
A gret sow ferryit of grysis thretty hed,
Lyggyn on the grond, mylk quhite, al quhite brodmell
About hir pappis sowkyng, thar, I the tell,
Is the richt place and sted for ȝour cite,
And of ȝour travell ferm hald to rest in le.
Nor the nedis nocht to gruch, in tyme tocum,
The rungyng of ȝour tabillis euery crum:
Destany sal fynd tharfor a ganand way,
And Phebus sal ȝou help, quhen ȝe list pray.
Bot ombyschew this cost of Italy
Quhilk nixt onto our bordouris ȝhe se ly,
Bedyit with flowyng of our seys flude,
Sen al tha citeis with wykkit Grekis, not gude,
Inhabit ar; for the Naricyanys,
Othir wys nemmyt Locry, thar remanys,
Quhilk come with Aiax Oylus to the fecht;
And, neir the hill that Salentynus hecht,
The feildis all ar occupyit full meit
Be Idomeneus the kyng expellit from Crete;
Thar is alsso the litil cite, but les,
Of the Duke of Melyboy, Phyloctetes,
Clepit Petilya, closyt with a wall:
Eschew thir citeis and thyr costis all.
Forthir, quhen that beȝond the sey sall stand
All thi navy, and thar apon the strand
Settis vp ane altare thi sacrifyce to ȝeild,
Thyne haris with a purpur vail ourheild,
Les than amyd the godly fyris, per cace,
Thi ennemeis mycht occur, and knaw thi face,
And so perturbyng all thi sacrifyce:
Thou caws thi feris keip the samyn gys
In thar oblacionys, and this vsage condyng;
Observe, thi self and thi chaist ofspring,
Every serimony of our religioun.
And, fra the wynd haith set thi cours adoun
From Itale towart the cost of Sycilly,
And the strait sowndis of the mont Pelory
Vanysys away peys and peys, than the land
Strekis all tyme towart the left hand,
And the left syde lang salt thou, but dowt,
Cyrkil, and sail mony seys about:
On the richt syde the cost and wallis evaid;
For tha partis vmquhile, as it is sayd,
Be fors of storm war in sondir ryfe,
And a huge deip gat thar holkit belyfe.
Behald quhat change and sa onkouth a kast
May be mysknaw, throw tymys lang bipast;
For, quhen that baith tha landis war al ane,
The seys rage draif in, and maid thame twane,
And fors of streym from the syde of Itale
The ile of Sycill devydit hes al haill;
Ane narow fyrth flowis, baith evyn and morn,
Betwix tha costis and citeis in sondir schorn.
The rycht syde tharof with Scilla ombeset is,
And the left with insaciabil Carybdys;
Quhar, in hir bowkit bysme, that hellys belch
The large fludis suppys thrys in a swelch,
And